


On The Mat

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Don't worry about the waiter, F/M, Leads to other things, Like kissing, Loser buys dinner, Shipscuses, Sillyfic, Training, jiu jitsu, pdas, tai chi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2018-02-03 05:55:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1733555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was inspired by a few things.  One, that Clark Gregg is really a brown belt in Jiu Jitsu (hawt).  Two, that a fic with Skoulson training would obviously lead to other things (at least when I'm writing).  Three, Skye checking out Coulson's rear end like it's nobody's business in Episode 09 and just the absurdity of them (and other people) pretending they're not into each other.</p><p>Thanks to Gregg and Skoulson and May for making me research Tai Chi and Jiu Jitsu a little.  I learned stuff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On The Mat

Skye was in the gym, concentration fixed on cross hands and close. She paused before she moved on to the next series of poses, went for the towel and a drink of water.

"Just a little patience," she murmured to herself. "Yeah, right."

"Seems like you're getting the hang of it."

She turned to see Coulson leaning against the wall.

"How long have you been standing there?" she asked.

"Just awhile," he answered vaguely, the smallest hint of a smile at the surface.

"Stalker and supervisor," she said, sarcastically. "Great combo."

"Take it you don't enjoy Tai Chi," he said.

"Oh, I love all of these really slow controlled movements," Skye nodded. "All one hundred and eight of them. Plays right into my skill set."

"Useful to know a few new skills," he said. "Show me what you've got?" He began taking off his jacket.

"Are you serious?" she asked, laughing. "What if I knock the starch out of your shirt?"

"Very funny," said Coulson, rolling up his sleeves and then taking his shoes and socks off.

"Oh," Skye said, looking up, letting her arms hang to her sides. "I can't hit you."

He was standing across the mat looking at her.

Coulson came at her and her hands went out reflexively, side stepped, and pushed him past her.

"Thanks for the warning," she said frowning.

"Not bad," he said ducking as she swung her right leg over him.

He came up grinning, just missing contact.

Her left swung out and her palm hit him in the chest, making him stagger back a few steps.

"That's not in the handbook," he said.

"Nope," she said, challenging.

"Guess I forgot how competitive you are," he said. "My mistake."

He jabbed toward her to strike and she blocked his arm and spun her back to him, leaning in with her elbow and hitting him in the chest, turning back towards him.

"I said I was bored, not incapable," Skye blinked over at him.

Coulson waved her towards him.

Skye raised an eyebrow, "I'm not falling for that. The whole point is to divert blows not to..."

She blocked him when he came at her again and went to push him but he ducked at her waist, wrapping his arms around her and stepping around her planting his leg and taking her down to the mat, rolling on top of her.

He pinned her arms as Skye breathed heavily, staring back up at him.

"Jiu Jitsu," he calmly smiled down, straddling her. "Maybe I'll teach you sometime."

"Maybe I'll let you," said Skye, cocky.

A puzzled look crossed Coulson's face.

"Loser buys dinner," Skye challenged.

Coulson clicked his tongue.

"Best 2 out of 3."

 

****

"If you know martial arts, why do you always fight like a boxer?" Skye asked.

Coulson shrugged, took a sip of his wine. "Something satisfying about socking someone in the face?"

Skye rolled her eyes.

"Sometimes, it's just easier," he admitted. "It's not like I'm incredibly patient."

"Yeah, I noticed," she said, running her fingers along the stem of her wine glass.

"You don't like it?" he asked, about the wine.

"I just don't drink it very often," Skye said. "Don't fret, I'm giving it a shot."

"It's just okay," he said. "But, if you want something else..."

"Just promise me you didn't let me win," she said.

"What?" he asked in disbelief. "Look, it wasn't like no-holds-barred. It was a sparring match. You won, fair and square."

"Meaning, you could've socked me in the face anytime you wanted to."

"I wouldn't sock you in the face, Skye," he said, smirking.

"I, on the other hand, will make no such promise," Skye said smiling, lifting her glass and clinking it against his, taking a sip.

They were sitting on the patio of an inexpensive Italian restaurant in North Bergen. Twinkling lights, red check table, the whole nine yards.

"Where'd you get that dress?" he asked offhandedly, grabbing some of the bread from the basket.

"I have my ways," she said, eyes locked on him.

"You wore a dress when we dropped Ace off with his Aunt," Coulson recalled, avoiding her eyes. "Not that one, though."

"My, what a mind for detail you have," Skye remarked.

Coulson stared back at her.

"This was probably a very bad idea," he started.

"Yes, really unprofessional," she agreed, placing her arms on the table.

"I mean, professional is sort of relative to the circumstances, though, right?" 

He was asking himself as much as he was asking her.

"If that's professional, I've been doing it all wrong."

Skye couldn't help herself, she burst out laughing, covered her face with one hand.

Coulson threw himself back into his chair and sighed.

"Shit," he said.

"You're asking me," she said, laughing, "Where I got my dress, you're buying me dinner, after pinning me to the mat...SIR!" She was wiping away tears.

"Yeah..." he admitted.

"Why don't you just say what you really want to say?" she asked.

"That I think you're hot?" he asked, tossing the bread back into the basket, when she irrupted into laughter. 

"Yes, Skye, I think you're hot."

He was clearly not enjoying her laughing at him at this point.

She stood up, looking over at him fondly.

He looked kind of dejected and sad, even, in his polished suit and crisp white shirt and tie.

She walked over and grabbed that tie, swung her legs over him, and planted a slow and hard kiss on him. Coulson tried to control the groan that escaped and grabbed her waist, and then her neck pulling her into him more, fighting the urge to arch into her. They were in public. They were supposed to be invisible!

Shit.

"I'm going to fire myself," he said, between breaths. "Tomorrow."

"Me, too." She said.

"Fire me, too."


End file.
